


Watchful Eyes

by Starofwinter



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Fae & Fairies, Gaslighting, Inspired by Crimson Peak (2015), M/M, moth jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Jon loves his husband, and Elias would never hurt him.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Watchful Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am in another fandom, writing the id fic that only I am asking for. I hope you like it!

The thunder pulls Jon from his sleep, crashing outside the shuttered window and startling him into wakefulness.

He wakes up alone, cold and aching and trembling. Something is horribly wrong, but he can't tell what it is yet; his wings flutter-

His wings.

His  _ wings _ .

He pulls himself from the bed, clinging to the heavy post for balance, as he looks into the mirror and nearly retches in horror. His wings are- there's no word for it except  _ shredded _ . They've been torn apart, with entire pieces missing.

They'll regrow, he tells himself, they will. They'll stitch themselves back together, with time, but it will take  _ so long _ . He tries to reach what he can, pressing the edges together, but it's no use.

Worse than the tears though, he doesn't remember  _ how it happened _ .

"Oh, good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?" Elias' voice makes him startle, and he whirls.

"Elias? What happened? My- my wings, what happened to them?" Jon's hands are fluttering as much as the tatters of his wings as he reaches out to his husband.

Elias tuts, and doesn't reach back. "Don't you remember? You were in such a state last night, I suppose it was just too much for you."

Jon frowns, searching his memory as he sits down on the bed, his shaking hands folded in his lap. He  _ doesn't _ remember that, but he doesn't remember  _ anything _ . "No, I- I don't, I don't recall anything past dinner." He looks up at Elias, searching his face, and finds nothing but that soft, kindly smile.

"No matter, are you feeling alright now?"

"I think so. How-"

Elias shushes him. "Hush, darling, you've had quite the stressful time. Why don't I have your breakfast- nearly lunch now- brought up here? I'm sure the cook will have something soothing for you."

"I'm not hungry," Jon whispers, his fingers knotted together, "Thank you, Elias."

"Nonsense, you need to eat something. I insist."

With that, Elias walks out. The iron-bound door closes behind him, and Jon is alone. He doesn't know if he prefers it that way or not. Being alone lets him think, but he desperately wants the comfort that Elias provides. Elias is his anchor in the world, he always has been. He's a steady presence wherever they are, with that curl of his lips that's both haughty and strangely intimate at once - others may be beneath him, but when he smiles that way, Jon feels like he's been invited into the joke as well. It's wonderful, in this society he now belongs to; humans don't... make sense, always, and he's aware that they can feel his otherness, like hounds after a fox. Elias cuts through that for him though, he belongs because Elias says so, and because Elias deems it all absurd anyway. It had been comforting to smile with him. Is it still?

It doesn't matter. He has everything he could think to ask for here, and it's a comfortable home. Elias' gifts are frequent, pretty jewelry or books, as if to make up for how busy he is. Jon devours the books, soaking in the words and places and names and storing them away for other days, other times, other  _ hims _ . It’s enough to spirit him away, most days, and he can bury himself in the pages. He wants so badly to  _ learn _ . It’s how he’d met Elias in the first place, why he’d fallen so utterly in love with him, why he’d married him. He’d wanted to know everything, and Elias encouraged that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as Elias returns with a tray of food. He can smell the honey and rose jam poured generously over the porridge, and despite himself, he reaches out. Elias smiles and sets it aside to help Jon back into their bed, steadying him where he’s left off-balance.

“I thought it might entice you,” he says as he rests Jon back against the pillows, careful not to trap and tear any more of the delicate tatters of his wings. “Plenty of sweetness, just the way you like it.” He moves the tray to Jon’s lap, steadying it easily before he brushes Jon’s hair back behind his ear. 

The tender gesture finally draws a smile from him, and he catches Elias’ hand to kiss his fingers. “Thank you, Elias. I’m sorry for my outburst.”

“Oh, Jon. Of course you would be upset, it’s only natural. But you’re still beautiful to me, no matter what.”

The thought hadn’t crossed Jon’s mind, and he looks up suddenly, tense once more. “I am?” It comes out more plaintive than he’d intended. His own looks are in his mind more often than he would like, if only because he’s aware of how others respond to them, and to think that  _ Elias _ might somehow like him less over it- He’s afraid now.

Elias smiles and kisses his forehead. “Always, don’t fret, my darling.” He says it as though he hadn’t been the one to bring them up in the first place, but… it feels nice to be reassured. He accepts the spoon Elias offers, and starts to eat his breakfast, the terror of the morning washed away by the sweetness of the honey and jam, and the feeling of Elias’ hand on his shoulder. How had he even considered that he might want to be without the warm comfort of his husband?


End file.
